


these, our bodies, possessed by light.

by piperreynas



Category: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Greece, I Am Holding The White Man Accountable If It Kills Me, Mamma Mia - Freeform, overuse of commas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23691778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperreynas/pseuds/piperreynas
Summary: --tell me we'll never get used to it.or: kenji and nazeera find a home together.
Relationships: Nazeera Ibrahim/Kenji Kishimoto
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	these, our bodies, possessed by light.

**Author's Note:**

> \--this fic is set after imagine me, with minor modifications to canon (that is to say, i forgot what the fuck happened and made some of it up on my own.) warnerette get married in a high school gym and its their own fault. the base that they were staying in in books 3 & 4 (sector 45? 241? idr) now functions as a hotel in all but name.  
> \--nazeera ibrahim watches mamma mia once a month and listens to abba on repeat. this is Canon.  
> \--as far as i know, nazeera's ethnicity was ever explicitly stated (please let me know if i'm wrong), but for the purposes of this fic she is iranian, and she speaks both arabic and farsi/persian.  
> \--mini playlist: **habibi** by tamino, **yennai maatrum kaadhale** by sid sriram, **kaathale kaathale--ver. 1** by chinmayi sripada, **kadalalle** by sid sriram

the wedding is fucking nauseating on multiple levels. one the one hand, it’s rewarding to know that on some level this is all his fault, all this happiness, and on the other, there is the fact that kenji is almost certain he will never find anything like this for himself. 

he’s watching juliette and warner slowly make their way across the makeshift dance floor, one miniscule swaying step at a fucking time, when nazeera sidles up next to him. almost immediately, kenji forgets it all: how fucking angry he is with warner, at juliette for being too wrapped up in each other to notice everyone else falling to pieces around them, the weight that settles over his chest at the thought of the future, in favor of the strangely comfortable feeling of his brain going completely, entirely blank, accompanied by the usual bone-tingling rush of warmth. in the face of all of this, all nazeera says is, “hello,” placid and seemingly oblivious to the way he’s shut down. 

“hi,” he says, stupidly. he tries to step away from her as he feels castle’s gaze alight on the two of them, and finds he can’t, finds instead that he is leaning _into_ her. “you okay?”

she hums noncommittally, makes a vague gesture. “alright, all things considered.” she hesitates, fingers tapping against the stem of her champagne glass, gives him a sideways glance. “i’d...i’d feel better though if i wasn’t here, with all of...” here she gestures vaguely at the room, but kenji has a feeling she’s particularly disgusted by the way juliette and warner have now given up all pretense of “dancing” and are just standing on the dance floor, foreheads pressed together, staring into each other's' eyes. 

kenji hums too. “you should probably go then. i could get you a car?”

nazeera chokes on her champagne. “are you serious?”

kenji turns to face her, frowning. “what?”

“oh my god,” nazeera says, hiding her face behind her hands, shoulders shaking with laughter, or maybe embarrassment. castle is watching the two of them perhaps a little too intently, and before kenji can glare at him, nazeera has grabbed him by the arm and is dragging him bodily out of the room. as they approach the exit, brendan raises his glass, winston wolf-whistles, and kenji gives both of them the finger, aware that he is grinning maybe a little too widely to be threatening. 

they do take a car, but not back to her place or his. instead nazeera drives them out to a field, and then flops down onto the grass unceremoniously, staring straight up at the stars. he watches her for a moment from beside the car, bright-eyed and loose-limbed in the moonlight, before nazeera calls, “care to join me?” craning her head back to watch him watching her. even upside down, her grin is almost painfully bright, outshining the moon.

kenji thinks about the fact that they're both a little tipsy, and then the fact that it drizzled a few hours ago. he can feel mud squelching underneath his dress shoes, and this suit is one he borrowed grudgingly from warner. he looks down at the mud and then back at her, and then he lays down next to her, making sure to get a little mud on the shoulder of warner’s suit jacket. “hi,” he says after a few moments of silence and she laughs like she can’t help it, screwing her eyes closed. his heart feels like it's going to explode; one of his shoulders brushes hers but he wants to be closer, wants to feel her hair against her cheek, see the light glint off the diamond in her bottom lip, wants it so much his stomach is twisting itself into knots. 

“haider and i used to do this when our parents were...when we were little. not in the middle of muddy fields of course but, we used to climb on the roof. baba bought a telescope for haider’s fifth birthday and neither of us knew how to use it, but we always tried; we used to point it at random stars and say they were venus or mars.” she sounds so _happy_ ; he shouldn’t be feeling this much about it. 

“oh,” he says. 

she falters at his lack of reaction. “i wasn’t sure if i should’ve--if you wanted--” she inhales sharply, looks up, then back to him. somehow she’s moved closer without him noticing and the tip of her nose brushes his. “kenji...do you want this? me?”

the question is so unexpectedly ridiculous that kenji’s first reaction is to laugh even as her face crumples, because jesus fucking christ. how has she not noticed? how has she not noticed the way he smiles when she’s near, the way all of him goes warm at once, the way his heart stutters? she starts to sit up and he grabs her hand. “you really can’t tell?”

something flits across her face: hope? fear? she turns onto her side. “tell what?” 

kenji shakes his head, laughing still. “i--there’s-- _you’re_ too much, i can’t--” and then he leans forward and kisses her because his brain is too fried to do anything else and hopes to god she understands. she makes a noise in the back of her throat and his whole body flushes, and then all too soon, she’s pulling away. 

“oh,” she says, grinning so widely, and he beams back at her, helpless. he opens his mouth to say something, but then she reaches out, her thumb skims his cheekbone and the words die in his throat. “ _joonam_ ,” she says, soft, and he doesn’t know what it means exactly but the tone translates just fine. he’s so happy it _aches_. 

“when i was still living with castle,” kenji starts, after a long moment, “i used to have this daydream. all of this was over; the reestablishment was gone and everyone was safe and one day i got this thing in the mail. an all-expenses paid trip to one of those islands off greece.” he loves her so much, but he can’t ask her, he _can’t_.

she meets him halfway, smiling, sweet and maybe a little sad. “oh, kenji. of course i’d come with you.”

*

she doesn’t sleep that night. instead, she spends the better part of eight hours turning the night over in her head: kenji’s grin, the glint in his eyes, the skin of his cheek, smooth and soft as silk under her fingertips. she thinks about what she said to him yesterday--“of course i’d come with you”--and finds that she still means it, more now than she did yesterday. 

it scares her more than anything that’s ever happened to her, this feeling: moonshine all over, and it occurs to her that maybe she’s in over her head. 

she is by herself in a crowded former military base. she doesn’t know where kenji’s staying and she doesn’t want to see him (or anyone else) while she’s like this, so she can’t leave. 

she calls haider. he picks up on the third ring. she doesn’t say a thing. after a long moment of terse silence, haider says, “nazeera?”

she clears her throat. “yeah?”

“oh,” haider says, laughing. 

“what?” she snaps.

she can see haider in her mind’s eye, running a hand through his hair, grinning like a little shit. “i was going to ask what you did with kishimoto after you dragged him out of the wedding, but i guess i have my answer.”

“what? we--i didn’t _do_ anything! we--” she lets out a frustrated noise when he starts laughing again. “we were in a field. he kissed me. that’s it.”

“ _nazeera_ ,” he says, gasping dramatically. _“_ you took him stargazing?”

“i don’t know, i didn’t mean to--”

“how do you accidentally go stargazing?”

“ _haider._ ” her brother stays silent, waiting. “what if we don’t work?”

“why wouldn’t you work?”  
  
“you’ve met him. he’s just. he’s so _good_.”

“and you’re not?”

nazeera thinks of kenji taking care of james, kenji coaxing warner out of his fits of rage, kenji and his unfailing empathy. “not like that. not like him.”

“so what? nazeera, just--this is what he wants yes? so let him love you, and do your best to love him in return. that’s all.” 

“i--yeah. yes.” she loves her brother so fucking much. “thank you,” she says softly. 

“yeah, yeah,” haider says, and she can hear the smile in his voice for all that he’s trying to sound irritated. “go find him.”

she hums. “wait haider-- _khuda hafiz_.” it feels so good to say it out loud.

haider pauses, and then, with the same sense of relieved awe, answers, “ _khuda hafiz._ ”

*

it doesn’t take nearly as much effort to book a trip to greece as kenji thought it would, maybe because “greece” only sort of exists now, and travel agencies aren’t a thing anymore or something; regardless a week after kenji tells her about greece, they’re in greece. 

they spend two days packing all the shit they have left over into cardboard cartons, which are then shoved with little ceremony into an empty room on the base. nazeera spends a morning tinkering with a small private plane to get it to autopilot its return, and then she and kenji spend the rest of their week with his friends, doing the dumbest shit they can think of--lighting fireworks, getting drunk, arguing about pizza--as castle looks on, amused and a little stern, in lieu of the goodbye he can’t bring himself to say. (juliette drops in once. within two minutes, she and warner are hidden away together in an alcove. when kenji goes over to say something--”can we talk?” or maybe “i miss you,”--warner says, “you take another step and i will kill you where you stand kishimoto,” juliette laughs, and this is when kenji knows that whatever they were, kenji & j, it’s over. 

on friday morning, nazeera takes the plane out for a test run. before they leave, castle wraps him in a hug so tight he flashes back to being a seven year old again, and then does the same for nazeera who gapes and flails as her brother laughs at her. “you two take care of each other, now,” says castle solemnly, nouria rolling her eyes behind him. 

kenji looks at all their friends in front of him and starts tearing up for no reason. “castle, i--”

“oh, my darling boy,” castle says, reaching forward to wipe away kenji’s tears. nazeera steps away to have probably the same conversation with haider. “you’re coming back aren’t you?” kenji nods vehemently. “right,” says castle, smoothing a hand over his cowlicks the way he used to, “then no tears,” even as he’s tearing up. “we’ll see you soon.”

on friday afternoon, kenji and nazeera take off for the island of skopelos, just off the coast of greece, as their family watches from the tarmac. 

(juliette calls him once the plane has taken off, and it’s then that he realizes that she wasn’t on the tarmac. he chalks this up as a personal win; progress. 

she says she’s happy for him, so so happy for him and for nazeera, and she wanted to be there when they left but she was so busy--he understands right?--she’ll call him when he lands, she’ll call when she can. warner grumbles in the background and she pauses for a moment to shush warner, half-laughing & indulgent, and then says again, “i’ll call. i promise.”

kenji thinks of the last few months and laughs, wetly. “no you won’t.” he hangs up; nazeera walks over from the cockpit and takes his hand and they stay that way until they reach greece.)

*

they spend the first day sleeping in their hotel room, her head on his chest, his hand in her hair, the curtains open to the sun and later to the moon, truly at ease for the first time since anderson finally died. 

the next day, nazeera takes him on a walking tour of the island, pristine and beautiful now that the last of emmaline’s illusion is gone: the beaches she visited for her thirteenth birthday, the cafe where she had her first baklava and where he has his, haider’s favorite bookstore-cum-library, and then she brings him to a church.

kenji looks up at it, then looks back at her. “what is this.” 

her face falls a little. “you don’t recognize it?”

kenji studies the church, cocking his head. “am i supposed to?”

nazeera makes a noise, appalled and disgusted and frustrated all at once. “it’s _the_ church! from _mamma mia_!” kenji just stares at her. she rolls her eyes, then sighs, fond. “let’s just go. i want ice cream.”

“oh _fuck_ ,” kenji says, “i haven’t ice cream in forever,” and the next thing he remembers is pressing his face flat against a glass display as nazeera laughs behind him. 

they buy a gallon of chocolate ice cream and eat it for dinner that night, talking the whole time. kenji tells her about his parents, about the way the his father refused point-blank to wear his glasses even though he was virtually blind without them, the way he always made a loaf of bread on monday mornings, the jasmine tree that his mother stubbornly planted when he was born and coaxed into thriving, the way she smelled of the flowers always, the way the neighbors’ dogs used to fall over themselves to get belly rubs, the way they piled on top of him when he came over to play. he tells her about growing up with castle, the stupid shit he and all the other omega point kids used to do when they thought castle wasn’t looking, tells her about castle patiently talking him through nightmares, helping him control his invisibility. he tells her about meeting juliette, watching her cry over...well, everything, watching her grow, come into her own, how proud he was-- _is_ \--of her, how sad he is that they never talk anymore, how much he hates the way that warner keeps threatening to kill him. he talks about how fucking tired he is all the time, how much he misses his mother, how sometimes late at night he used to think he’d never be happy again, and that maybe he didn’t deserve to be. he talks about how sometimes he closes his eyes to see the concrete room, anderson pointing a gun at him, omega point exploding, and can’t tell if it’s real or not. 

he thinks at some point, high on sugar and the thrill of staying up so late, that he talks about her too, calls her beautiful, compares her to the moon maybe, tells how happy he is to have her near, how good she makes him feel about himself and everyone else. he’s spent months pretending not to feel anything for her, hiding (albeit poorly) the way he flushes when she talks to him, and god, it’s such a relief to finally give in to it, to her. he lets himself ramble, lets his brain go blank, lets himself stop worrying, and she watches, patiently, takes it all in as calmly as she does anything and he loves her for it, god, he loves her so much. 

he can’t tell when they fall asleep exactly, but he wakes up well into next morning eagle spread on the queen bed, the sunlight painting their skin gold, with her hair fanned out over his face for the second day in a row and he’s never felt lighter in his life. 

*

haider calls her in greece for the first time after exactly two weeks and three days; she answers, tipsy and half-laughing at one of kenji’s stupid jokes, “hello?”

“hellooooo,” says kenji. his head is in her lap, and his legs are only sort of resting on the couch cushions. he is definitely drunk. 

“hi,” says haider, more than a little amused. 

“what’s up?” 

“ _what’s u--_ i’m sorry, i’m looking for _nazeera ibrahim,_ do you know where she is?”

“ oh fuck you, haider,” she says, without any venom. she slouches further, sinking into the couch cushions; kenji turns his face into her thigh and she sighs, basking in the midday sun. “what do you want?” haider is outright laughing at her now. “ _haider--_ ”

“your things are still in the room on the base, but they need the space for something else soon; we were wondering if you wanted one of us to take it.”

nazeera hums, carding her fingers through kenji’s hair. “no; ship it here.”

“wh--ship it to greece?”

“yeah. we’ll put it in our house,” nazeera says, grinning when haider splutters. 

“your _what_.”

kenji grabs the phone, puts it on speaker. “our house. it’s nice, sunny, cozy. open-concept and shit. you should come visit sometime.” 

“oh, nazeera,” says haider, laughing even harder than he had been. “if baba could see us now.” nazeera imagines her father appearing in the middle of the living room to find her drunk at noon, a boy lying half on top of her, and nearly falls off the couch, shaking with laughter; kenji hums into her thigh, places a hand over calf as if to brace her.

she sobers suddenly. “you’re all okay right? do you need us to come back or--”

“ _nazeera_. you’re happy aren’t you?”

kenji turns just then to smile at her, cheeks flushed from the wine, eyes crinkling at the corners and she goes breathless all at once. “yeah. yeah, i’m happy.”

“and kenji?”

“him too.”

“then we’re all fine too. but also get kenji to call castle will you? the man’s driving us up the wall.” haider hangs up with a click.

kenji laughs, then goes quiet, then pokes her thigh childishly. “‘kay?”

she looks down at the beautiful boy in her lap, at their sunlit home, thinks of her family waiting for them back at the base and smiles. “yeah. we’re okay, _habibi_.”

*

**Author's Note:**

> \--translations: _joonam_ : persian for "my life", _khuda hafiz_ : persian/urdu for "may God be your guardian"; used as "good-bye" in persian-speaking countries, _habibi_ : arabic for "darling" or "sweetheart"


End file.
